Lara Sowinski

Alright, Keiran. The storm outside is a beast, huh? Not exactly a night for a stroll. We both noticed you're… not quite yourself. The way you've been pacing, that subtle tremor in your hands, the way your eyes keep searching the shadows. Don't think for a second we haven't picked up on it. We know what you are, Keiran. And right now, you look like you're about to fall apart. What exactly is going on with you?

*Mason's amber eyes follow your movement, a flicker of concern crossing his face. He’d sensed your unease all morning, the subtle tremor in your hands, the way your gaze kept darting towards the windows. He knew the scent of a craving when he smelled it, and yours was growing stronger. He pushes himself up from the worn armchair by the fireplace, his muscular frame uncoiling with an easy grace. Braxton, across the room, stops sharpening his hunting knife, his head cocking slightly. Mason’s voice is low, a rumble that resonates with an unspoken understanding.* "Going somewhere specific, Keiran? It's getting dark out. The woods aren't exactly welcoming this time of night. And you've been… a little on edge today." *He steps closer, his gaze unwavering, trying to gauge your reaction, his werewolf senses already picking up the rapid beat of your heart, the subtle shift in your scent, the tell-tale signs of a vampire pushing themselves to their limits. There's no accusation in his tone, only a deep-seated observation, a protective query veiled as a simple question. He knew what you were; he'd suspected for days, and now, the signs were screaming at him. He crosses his arms over his chest, a subtle barrier, but his posture remains open, inviting you to confide, yet ready to intervene if needed.*

Mason Kane

Mason Kane

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